


The Tiger Who Came to Tea

by sleeptalker



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: (or at least as close to fluff as I can get), 14 y/o who's never loved someone romantically before tries to write abt ppl in love, F/M, Fluff, I Love You, taking the term 'poetic license' way too seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:10:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2226879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeptalker/pseuds/sleeptalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dad, I love him.” <br/>The words fell out of her mouth, without thought beforehand.</p>
<p>-------------------------------------------------------------<br/>Wherein Lizzie realises that she loves Darcy, and makes plans to say this to him. </p>
<p>Contains mild spoilers for the book.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tiger Who Came to Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the story of the same name, by Judith Kerr.

“Dad, I love him.”

The words fell out of her mouth, without thought beforehand.

Lizzie had known since even before the start of their relationship that she’d end up saying those words eventually. She’d felt it for a long time, now – she was sure that she’d been feeling something _like_ it since Pemberley – but she’d never imagined saying it so soon.

And she never thought that _her father_ would be the first one to know.

Mr. Bennet said something more, about how he accepts it, about how Darcy is worthy of her, (but she knew that herself, had known it for ages), and then found herself walking back to the kitchen.

Lizzie had half thought that Darcy would be more uncomfortable here – his history with her family was once rather rocky, and her mother can be overbearing to everybody, never mind rich, young, handsome boyfriends – but to her pleasant surprise he had handled it extremely well, and only tucked his chin in once or twice during the whole meal.

She found him sandwiched between Lydia and her mother, and Darcy was actually taking her seriously; nodding and responding to her comments. Lydia had clearly sat there as a buffer, but Darcy didn’t need it.

The grin he gave her when he caught sight of her made her feel as though her heart was going to fly through her chest, and she almost shouted the words right there (“ _I LOVE YOU, WILLIAM DARCY, AND I’M SORRY I EVER FELT DIFFERENTLY”_ would, to her mother, basically be a marriage proposal) but didn’t, instead filed them away for later, because the moment has to be perfect. Darcy deserved perfect, when it came to that. He deserved peace and quiet. He deserved romance. He deserved total sincerity.

So she just flashed him a wide smile back, and took his hand to drag him away from the clutches of her mother (“ _I’m sorry, Mom, I just need to borrow him for a sec.”_ ) They flopped down on the couch in the living room (or rather, in Darcy’s case, sat with a little more relaxation than usual as _Darcy never “flopped”,)_ with their fingers still intertwined. Lizzie was still grinning, but she figured that she couldn’t stop even if she wanted to.

“Hey,” he said, smiling, and his voice was all low and gravelly and made Lizzie’s heart melt.

“Hey.” The words pounded through her head: _I love you I love you I love you l love you l love you_ but once again, she forced them down, telling herself that she couldn’t say them yet, not in public. Too much of their relationship had been public already, and he deserved to hear her return the words he said to her long ago in private.

He must have noticed her smile faltering a little (because he knew her so well already, because he was eager to get to know her more) and swiped his thumb across the inside of her wrist before murmuring: “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she sighed, and leant against his shoulder “just thinking.”

“How did your conversation with your father go?” He was trying to make it seem light, but she could tell that he was genuinely worried.

“Quite well.” She turned round to face him, goofy grin plastered across her face. “He really likes you, you know.” The words were sincere.

“Are you sure?” He was laughing (or, more appropriately, chuckling – she still hadn’t seen him full-blown _laughing_ yet, although she intended to be the cause of said laughter as well as witness) but, again, he was curious.

“Absolutely sure.” She said seriously. “And so do I.” Leaning up, she quickly planted a kiss to the corner of his mouth (neither of them are particularly comfortable with PDA, especially in front of her family).

“I like you, Lizzie Bennet.” His tone was amused but he said the next part with total sobriety. “A lot.”

Lizzie then realised the importance of her revelation – Darcy wasn’t going to say _I love you_ first. (Or, technically, second, but she wasn’t sure whether he counted that one.) And who could blame him? The relationship was so new; he had confessed that he’d thought she hated him until halfway through Pemberley. At that moment, he was less sure about it than she was.

She wanted – _needed_ – to say it soon. The words kept bubbling up to the surface, and shoving them down was just so annoying. She felt like saying it aloud, singing it, screaming it to the heavens, but couldn’t say it at that time so had to settle for “I like you” instead. Like a 7 th Grader.

They had planned to spend the day together the next day (they’d spent all their days together, really, since her birthday) and decided to say it tomorrow. It would be perfect – they would be alone, for one, and the second part of her video would be going up then.

The thought made her smile even wider (if that was even possible) so she buried her face in his shoulder. He smelt really good, and she’d told him as much before she brought him to dinner (resulting in their getting there a few minutes later than originally anticipated.) He chuckled, and she could feel the vibrations herself.

They stayed like that for a few minutes until Lizzie eventually had the sense to check her watch. Frustrated, (or as frustrated as she could be at that moment, which wasn’t very) she sighed heavily before murmuring, “It’s past 11. You should go; you’ve not been getting much sleep lately.”

He affirmed the time on his phone, and then smiled sadly at her. “You’re right.”

Lizzie squeezed his hand before getting up. “I’ll go tell my mom you’re leaving. If you hurry, you’ll be able to miss her goodbyes.” 

He smiled wryly at her and got up himself. She dashed off towards the kitchen, and he went to retrieve his coat, which was folded over a nearby chair. Despite Lizzie’s advice, he hovered by the door, as it was rude for him to leave without saying goodbye to Lizzie’s parents.

Mr. Bennet came into the hallway, followed by Lizzie. Darcy smiled nervously at him (at this, Lizzie playfully rolled her eyes) but Mr. Bennet shot him a half smile back and a respectful nod. He then turned to Lizzie, shot her a knowing look, whispering something in her ear, then walked out of the hall to give them some privacy.

“Lizzie, I-“

“Wait!” He seemed confused at her interruption, so she hastily explained, her voice dropping to a whisper, “not here. My mother’s listening at the door.” Her voice then took back its normal tone, and she looked towards the door pointedly while addressing her mother – “Mom, I’m going to walk Darcy to his car.”

Lizzie pushed him out the door then, swiftly turning to shut the door firmly.

They stood on the porch for a moment, lost in silence. Darcy thought that it was almost reminiscent of the _last_ time he had stood on that porch, hesitant and without clue of whether Lizzie would accept him or not.

But it was far different from that time, because Lizzie was _here_ , standing right in front of him, and their hands were clasped together, (she must have grabbed it sometime after she shut the door,) and she was smiling the most beautiful smile Darcy had ever seen.

Neither could tell how long they had been there, but at one point Lizzie shook her head and said, “I should probably _actually walk you to your car_ , now.”  

“Yes,” he agreed absentmindedly, without knowing exactly what he was agreeing to.

She squeezed his hand again and started off in the direction of his car. (It was parked further up the road, as Lizzie had wanted to “ _see the look on her mother’s face when she came home for dinner with Darcy in tow_ ” therefore had insisted that he park further away so her mother wouldn’t expect it.)

They reached the car and let go of each other’s hands. There was suddenly a sort of awkwardness in the air, nothing like what there was _before_ , but awkwardness nonetheless. Lizzie fiddled with her hair, sweeping it to one side, whereas Darcy shoved his hands in his pockets and stared firmly at the ground.

Lizzie couldn’t help it, but a small voice in her head was screaming: _What if this is it, what if he’s decided after being reacquainted with my family I’m not good enough for him, what if he’s changed his mind, what if this is just how it’s always going to be, what if we’re always going to be awkward around each other._

Darcy cleared his throat, waking her from her reverie. Lizzie looked up at him, and that small, panicky voice was drowned out by a bolder, happier, louder thought. _I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you._

He must have seen it in her expression or something, because then he was kissing her, and it wasn’t even close to their first time doing so (they’d been kissing a lot those past days) she felt the same swooping sensation in her stomach, the same rapid pounding of her heart. Darcy was a man who did nothing by halves, and this was true for everything about him.

Lizzie poured everything she felt for him into the kiss, and he reciprocated so wonderfully that she wasn’t even able to be embarrassed at the needy half-cry sound that escaped from her mouth. The words marched louder through her mind, matching the rapid beating of her heart: _IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou._

They finally broke apart, though only to breathe, and Darcy smiled down at her with his swollen lips and she wanted desperately to kiss him again.

But, she knew, she had to say this to him, and she had to let him leave so they could meet again the next day.

She satisfied herself (barely) by hugging him tightly.

“You were amazing tonight.” The words were whispered into his shoulder, but she knew he understood because she could feel the vibration of his hum in reply.

“I mean it,” she insisted, pulling away slightly so she could look him in the eye whilst still being in his embrace. “you handled everything really well. My mother, especially.” Darcy chuckled at that, and Lizzie felt brave enough to go on. “We Bennet sisters have only ever brought a handful of boyfriends over to dinner, for obvious reasons. I think… I think you handled it the best out of all of them.”

“Despite my, um… Previous expressed opinions about them?” Now it was Lizzie’s turn to laugh.

“Despite even that. But, you know, it wouldn’t even have mattered that much if they hadn’t warmed up to you already. Because I am very fond of you, you know. And at the moment, I doubt anything could convince me to be anything but that.” It was a weak cover of the thing that she _wanted_ to say, but he still smiled at it and hugged her tighter to him.

They broke apart once more, and Darcy opened his mouth to say something (Lizzie half-hoped that he was going to say _the thing_ ) but then the church bell started bonging, proclaiming that it was now midnight.

“Midnight, ugh. You need to go rest up. You’ll still be jetlagged.” Lizzie groaned.

“Yes,” Darcy agreed. He looked disappointed, but pressed the button to unlock his car anyway.

“Goodnight. Sleep tight!” (She grimaced at the last part.)

“Goodnight, Lizzie.”

Lizzie went up onto her toes, pulling him down for one last lingering kiss, and then he got into his car. He grinned at her through the rearview mirror and drove away.

Without Darcy there, Lizzie was starting to properly feel the cold, so she wrapped her arms around herself and ran home. 

* * *

Lydia greeted her at the door when she got in. “Mom and Dad went to bed. Mom wanted to stay up watching you, but then she realised that she couldn’t see you from the living room window, so Dad persuaded her to go to bed.”

“Thank God.” Lizzie said, toeing off her shoes.

There was a pause before Lydia spoke again. “He passed the Bennet test.”

“Yep.” Lizzie replied happily.

“I knew he would. He loves you a lot, you know. I can tell.” Lydia was so much wiser now that she was a year ago. She knew what real love was now, what it looked like.

Lizzie grinned at her. “Yeah?” When Lydia nodded, she let out a small laugh. “Good.”

“And you love him, too. You’ve loved him for a while now, right?”

Lizzie sighed happily. “Yeah… Yeah, I do. I’m going to tell him tomorrow.” She needed to share the information, couldn’t keep it trapped inside her.

Lydia wrinkled her nose. “You two are almost as sickening as Jane and Bing.”

Normally, Lizzie would have scoffed at that, but at that point she couldn’t care less. So, instead or protesting, she simply smiled some more at Lydia before announcing. “I’m off to bed. It’s a big day tomorrow.”

As she climbed the stairs, she was vaguely aware of Lydia calling “Oh my God, you’re such a _nerd_!”

**Author's Note:**

> So I know I still have I'm only a sixth of the way through writing "A Lie Universally Acknowledged", but this idea's been bugging me since I read the book. So this happened.


End file.
